


Insecurities Run Deep

by TriscuitsandSoup



Series: We, Our, Us [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/pseuds/TriscuitsandSoup





	Insecurities Run Deep

Something was wrong. 

For one, Peter was sitting quietly on the sofa, minding his own business. Secondly, Stiles had his back turned to the werewolf and was completely silent, not a single word uttered from his lips. His fingertips were motionless at the keyboard, not typing or fidgeting or playing with his cellphone. The eerily stillness was enough to make the whole place feel like an odd episode of _The Twilight Zone_. Stiles was quiet. Peter wasn't scheming. Something was very, very wrong. 

“What happened?” he asked, addressing Peter who was sure to be the guilty party. 

“I didn't do anything,” Peter said, looking up from his book. He lounged with his legs up on the sofa like a lazy cat. It was a sharp contrast to Stiles tense, rigid posture at the computer. 

“Welcome home, _Chris_ ,” Stiles said with deliberate emphasis over his name. He turned around in the chair and cast a dark look in the wolves direction. “Peters being a complete asshole today.” His hair was unkempt and fell around his ears in messy bristles, his usual post sex appearance, but there were no new hickeys on his throat to mark the occasion. Likewise, Peter wasn't looking as self satisfied as he normally did after seducing one of his loves. 

“Peter's an asshole every day,” Chris said, dropping his work supplies by the door. “What specifically was he an asshole about today?” He geared himself up for the inevitable scolding that would soon follow. 

“Such love I receive in this household,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes. “Fills me with warmth. I know it's hard to believe, but I honestly haven't done anything.” From anyone elses mouth the words would have been endearingly sincere, but Peter had long perfected the art of false sincerity.

“He's a fucking liar,” Stiles snapped. “He's been rude all day.” 

“I'm inclined to believe Stiles here, Peter. You're not exactly known for your honesty.” 

“Why am I always known as the liar? He lies just as much as I do, arguably more and he's _bad_ at it.”

“I am n-” 

Chris raised his hand to silence both of them. “Let's have this argument first, and then we can have that one. What did you do to make Stiles upset? And don't say 'nothing' because he wouldn't be over there impersonating Derek if that were the case.” 

Stiles huffed and crossed his arms.

Peter set his book to the side and looked back at Stiles. “I told him I wasn't going to fuck him unless he was on his back, he got mad and stormed off. That's all. I didn't insult him, I didn't insult you, there was no hidden meaning, just pure and simple – I made a request, he didn't like it.”

Chris paused for Stiles to give a rebuttal, or explain exactly what fucked up thing Peter had done that he refused to acknowledge as immoral, but no such explanation ever came. 

“Seriously? That's why you two are fighting?” It wasn't like Stiles to be so petty, he could handle Peters behavior better than anyone, so for him to be so upset . . . 

“No,” Stiles snapped. “We're fighting because Peter ruined a perfectly good mood by being a picky asshole, so thanks for that, Peter.” He turned back to his computer and rested his head down on one hand. His shoulder muscles bunched up with tension underneath his shirt. The boy scrolled angrily through the web page he was on, but he didn't pause to actually read any of the information. 

Peter shrugged. “I just want to see him on his back, that's all.” 

Come to think of it, he'd only seen Stiles bare stomach a few times in fleeting moments. In the morning when they got dressed Stiles would either face away, or flit off to the bathroom for a shower and take his clothes with him. Even when they settled down for bed he wore a plain T-shirt, even though the room ran hot and being wedged between two people couldn't have helped. Sometimes he would get up and change if things got too sweaty, but he was never without it for long. Chris always just thought it a strange personal preference. 

“That's not exactly something I can be mad about, Stiles. Just because Peter doesn't want to have sex the way you want too doesn't mean he's in the wrong. Was he trying to force you into it?” 

Stiles shook his head. “No, but you're supposed to be on _my_ side. Remember?” 

“And I will be just as soon as you prove that I should be. Was he aggressive with you? Did he hold you down or make you feel uncomfortable?” 

“No,” Peter answered. “I told him what I wanted, he said no, and I backed off.” 

Chris frowned. “Is that true?” 

“Well yeah, but-” Stiles turned around again. His pretty brown eyes pleaded. It was only with the strongest of willpower that he resisted caving to those gorgeous chocolate irises. 

“Why is this so upsetting for you? Being on your back is no different than the usual way.” 

“Well I don't want too!” Stiles hissed, eyes still fixated on the computer screen. He drew his legs up onto the chair and hunched over himself. “Stop making a big deal out of it.” 

Chris and Peter exchanged a look. 

“I don't think we are. You're the one who's getting all huffy about it. I wanted something, you didn't, I backed off. There's literally no reason for you to be upset.” For once, Peter sounded like the most rational person in the room and that was scary. 

“Stiles?” Chris moved forward and placed his hand down on the boys shoulder. His head whipped up and glared at him. 

“What?” 

“Why don't you want Peter to see you on your back? For that matter, why won't you get undressed in front of us in the morning?” he felt the tight knot of muscles in Stiles back tighten.

“Because I don't. Why do you need to know?” his eyes narrowed into accusatory slits. 

“I don't,” Chris said. “But I'd still like to know why.” 

Stiles bit his lip. “Because . . . because I don't _like it_.”

“Like what?” 

Stiles eyes flitted to the ground, then back up at him. “My stomach. I don't like looking at my stomach, can we drop it now, _please_?” He tried to wriggle out of Chris' hold, but Chris refused to let up on his grip. 

“Really? All this because you're feeling self conscious?” Peter raised a brow and crawled towards the edge of the sofa. He reached a hand out to touch Stiles leg. The boy flinched away and glared at him. 

“Oh, Stiles,” Chris said with a small chuckle. 

“Don't laugh at me,” Stiles snapped, his dark brows furrowed. “I'm done having this conversation. Sorry I'm not a muscly werewolf, or a super well-trained, athletic hunter.” He yanked his body away and turned to the computer, or at least tried to. Chris caught his chin and forced it back up. 

“I'm not laughing at you,” he said seriously. “I do think you're being a bit silly, but I'm not mocking you for it. We all have things we feel self-concious about, like Peters hairy werewolf toes. We hardly even notice they are there, and we certainly wouldn't make fun of him for it.”

“I do not have-!” Peter bit back the rest of his remark. His eyes narrowed to shining points. “For the sake of the argument, we will _pretend_ I have hairy werewolf toes, even though I don't. On the off chance I did have hairy werewolf toes, I would probably be self-conscious about them. But I'm not, so I don't. Just like if _Chris_ had oddly thick nose hairs, that he thinks we don't notice.” The wolf looked at him pointedly. 

Chris resisted the urge to go find a mirror. “The point being,” he said, clearing his throat, “is that we've all got things we're not happy with, but we love each other anyways.” 

“Okay,” Stiles said, some of the tension dropping from his body. 

“I promise the last thing I'm doing when we have sex is critiquing your body. If anything I'm awing over how perfect it is,” Peter added. He slid off the couch to stand in front of Stiles next to Chris. He leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead. “You adorable idiot.”

Stiles lips lifted in a half-willing smile. His anxiety might not disappear that very day, but at least the next time he fretted over his imaginary flaws he would know that he wasn't the only one who had those fears. 

“Now, might this super muscly werewolf tempt you back into our room?” Peter asked, waggling his brows suggestively. 

Stiles laughed. “No, now I've got the image of your hairy toes stuck in my head."


End file.
